Christmas with the Noble's
by footshooter
Summary: The Doctor can't turn down another invitation to have Christmas lunch with Donna... Even if he is different now. And if she doesn't recognise him. Changes a lot throughout. T as I can't get through a story without swearing. Not even Doctor Who!


"Dad! I told you not to go out, it's icy out there!"

"Gramps, get back in here, you'll fall!"  
"Stop fussing the both of ya, I'll be alright!"

A minute later, Donna was rushing out of the front door in her dressing gown and boots, and Wilf was doing the exact thing he said he wouldn't and slipping over. Luckily a young man happened to be walking past the house at exactly the right moment and managed to catch him before he fell, saving them a trip to hospital on Christmas day and a ruined Christmas dinner.

Donna rushed over to them as well as she could without going arse over tit herself, and slapped Wilf lightly on the back.

"I bloody told you, didn't I? You'll break something if you're not careful! You keep forgetting your age!"

"Oh, stop fussing Donna love. No harm done, eh?"

"There would've been harm done if it wasn't for him," Donna said, smiling her best smile and turning to the young man who was currently stood with his hands in his pockets and his floppy hair over his face… in a tweed jacket… with suspenders… and a bow tie. But Donna tried not to judge a book by its cover – you see all sorts round where she lives, after all.

"Thank you," she said, really meaning it, and the man looked up and smiled. He couldn't've been any older than in his twenties and there was definitely something about him… but you'd remember a kid running round in a bow-tie, so they can't've met before.

"Ah… no problem. I wasn't… I mean, I shouldn't get involved but I can't let someone fall on the ice. Not on Christmas."  
"He'd've ended up in hospital and the dinner would be ruined. And mum would never have stopped going on about it!" Donna said, with another glare at her grandfather. The young man looked over her shoulder, smiled, and waved,

"I bet she wouldn't."  
Then he looked perplexed and put his hand back into his pocket awkwardly, like he shouldn't be waving, but was.

"I'm Donna by the way, but you probably already know that," she said, laughing and he frowned, stepping into her personal space and staring into her eyes.

"Why on earth would I know that?"

It was Donna's turn to look confused, "Just… I thought everyone round here knew who I was now that I won the lottery."

The young man jumped back, "Oh yes! Of course!" he said, smiling, but she was sure she could see a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I'm David… Platt."

He winced as he said the name, and Donna laughed, "Unfortunate."  
"Yes. Very." He mentally berated himself for such a stupid name choice. Of all the names in the world...

"Are you actually from round here?"  
There was the sadness again.

"No, I'm from… far away. I'm… visiting!"  
She wasn't convinced.

"Oh yeah? Anyone nice?"  
He shrugged, "Not in."  
"On Christmas day? Were they expecting you?"  
"Probably not… don't even recognise me these days, but it's for the best."

There was that look again, and Donna felt a pang of sympathy for the kid, and she wasn't sure why.

"So, are you on your own then?"  
"Yes… well, no. I have this friend… sister. But she's on her honeymoon right now. With her boyf…iancé…husband." Donna glanced at him, starting to worry for his sanity. "Always get those mixed up!" he said, tapping the side of his head as if mixing up your sister and her marital status was the most natural thing in the world.

"But you're on your own now?"  
"I guess so."  
"On Christmas?"  
"Well… I never really did the whole Christmas thing…"

Donna's heart actually sank just looking at him, trying to be a grown up in his jacket and bow-tie, alone on Christmas day but still good enough to stop an old man from falling over in the street.

"You could… you know, join us? Mum always makes too much anyway."

Wilf looked shocked, but Donna glared at him. The Doctor raised his eyebrows in complete shock.

"Oh, well… you know… I couldn't, really."

"C'mon, I insist! It's Christmas! You did us a favour, we'll do you one. Spend a bit of time with a family!"

A strangers family. And yet, he seemed to fit right in.

He looked as though he was having some sort of internal struggle for a few minutes, and then he shrugged, "Ah, okay. What harm can it do? It is Christmas…"

Donna laughed and clapped him on the back, "Good! It's bloody freezing out here. C'mon gramps! And no falling over this time!"

* * *

Wilfred Mott cornered the Doctor as he was leaving the bathroom. He had bounded out after straightening his bow-tie and making is hair just that little bit floppier, and almost ran Wilf over. He yelped in surprise, and put his arms on Wilf's shoulders.

"I am sorry, Wilf, I didn't see you there."

Wilf wasted no time.

"Who are you?"

"Eh?"  
"You. What do you want from her? Money, is that it?"

The young man said nothing and continued to study Wilf's face, but then smiled. This unnerved Wilf because there was something about him… something he knew, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. The kid was definitely not a face you'd forget and so they couldn't have met before; so why did it feel as though they had?

"Don't just smile at me, son! Answer the question!"

He smiled more.

"You don't change, do you?"  
"Eh?"

"Oh come on Wilf, you're cleverer than that. I _know _it."

"You're speaking like you know me! Why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep looking at Donna like… like…?"

The young man in front of him had raised his eyebrows, and this had drawn Wilf to his eyes. And there it was. The striking familiarity; not in the colour, nor the shape, but in the age, the loneliness, the twinkle of wonder and compassion…

"You're… You said I wouldn't ever see you again…"  
"You won't. Not him. I'm not… him. Not anymore. Not ever again…"  
"But you are…?"  
"The Doctor, yes."

Wilf stared at him for a few more seconds, and he stood, his arms still on his shoulders, with that dopey grin he knew _never failed _on his face.

"Blimey, you've got young."  
The Doctor laughed, and pulled Wilfred Mott in for a hug.

* * *

Sylvia couldn't really argue with Donna's demands that the boy stayed for Christmas lunch, but she did start to get ticked off when he returned from the bathroom with Wilf behind him, chatting like old friends. He had, at least, thought there was something off about him, but now… no… the puppy dog eyes and the charm had won over and he was talking far beyond his years and laughing and _he _felt like part of he family and _she _felt like she was the one looking in.

She went to get more drinks, and he followed her into the kitchen.

"Yes?"  
He paused, "You haven't taken to me."

She sighed and spun around, "I'm sorry."  
"The venom. There, look. You haven't. Why haven't you taken to me? Why do the mother's _never _take to me?"

She could feel the anger rising now. The mother's indeed? So he does this often? Blagging free lunches? He was probably a thief as well. And why was he telling her? Was he a murderer too…?

"I thought the floppy hair and the puppy-dog eyes would work in my advantage, but clearly not…"

"What are you talking about?" She spat, advancing on him, but he didn't move.

"You didn't take to me last time either. They did, but not you. I really would like to know what I'm doing wrong…"

"Last time, what do you…?"

"The wedding. The pound from your husband. The lottery ticket. It's me Sylvia. I didn't want to come in… I just wanted to _see _you all with these eyes. And then I couldn't really turn down her offer of Christmas dinner twice now, could I?"

"Oh my God."  
He smiled the winning smile again, and she seemed to melt as she rushed in for a hug.

"Ah-hah. The smile _does _work then!"

She stood back and hit him playfully.

"How?"  
"It's a long story, and it begins shortly after your father saved the Universe… but now isn't the time. Let's just say that I'm not him anymore. I am. But I'm not. I'm different now."  
"I can see that."

"Well obviously…"  
"Your eyes are the same. I mean, I know they're green now and everything, but you can see you in them still."

The Doctor smiled, and motioned to the drinks tray now that it was getting slightly awkward, he was definitely more socially awkward this time around. It was irritating.

"Shall we?"  
"Only if you have one."  
"I don't…"

"Come on!"  
"Fine!" He grabbed a wine glass and downed half in one, wincing afterwards.

"Happy now?"  
"What'll happen if you get drunk?"  
"I will make an arse of myself, that is all."

She laughed, "Well come along then _David_, they'll be wondering what we're doing in here. And speaking of the name, David Platt? Of all the names you could have chosen…"  
"Look, I was watching Corrie before I left and it was the first that sprung to mind…"  
"Oh, did you see the tram crash then?"  
"Yes, I did. I thought they were actually very good episodes. The special effects weren't brilliant though..."  
"Tell me about it! It looked like something off Thunderbirds!"

* * *

"Gramps, you're doing it again!"  
"What, love?"  
"Looking at me like that!"  
"Like what?" the Doctor said.

"Like I'm a flaming invalid!" She sighed, and picked up her wine glass. "Now you're doing it as well!"

"Am I?"  
"Yes!"  
"I don't think I am…"

Donna shook her head and looked back at her dinner.

"Where's your husband then?"  
"Ey?"  
"Wedding ring."  
"Oh, of course." Donna laughed, "His sisters unwell, thought he better spend Christmas with her. She doesn't like me."

"How could some one not like you?" the Doctor said, pouting, as though this was a personal insult.

Donna laughed again, "Flattery will get you nowhere young man, I'm far too old."  
The Doctor laughed.

_Oh, so you like this model do you? I've got another one after me, Donna. Life was so much easier with you…_

"Frankie Boyle's on tonight."  
Wilf made a noise of disgust, and Sylvia tutted, "I don't see what you like about him. He's a vile man."

"Bloody idiot, if you ask me. Not funny in the slightest."

"Ohh, come on now. I like him!" The Doctor said, and Donna beamed at him.

"Are you sure you're not my long lost brother or something? Mum, is this your way of telling me?"

The Doctor laughed, "I'm sure, Donna."

_But I may as well have been…_

* * *

Wilfred Mott and the Doctor were sat on the back step of the house, looking up at the stars.

"You still up there?"  
He nodded, "Yeah."  
"With people?"  
A hint of sadness crept into his eye, "Yes."  
"You miss her?"  
He swallowed and looked away, "Of course."

"You're so… different now."  
"Different man, Wilf. I fired a gun. I threatened to kill someone. I punched someone in the face…"  
"Personality changes as well then?"  
"Yes."

"You're still you."

"In some ways, yes. But the sentiment is all gone. There are people I used to cry myself to sleep over and now… I barely remember to think of them. And these tear ducts are _rubbish_."

Wilf chuckled, "What about her though?"

The Doctor laughed softly, "I can feel her all the time." He tapped his head, "in here. When she's sad, when she's happy, when she's angry. I can feel it. If I just sit quietly and _think_, I know what she's doing. I've got a head full of stuff and yet it's so _empty _without them, just Donna rattling round in there…"  
"He's gone then? The Master."  
"Yes. He's gone. He saved my life and I forgot about him. And he's gone."

"It wasn't…"  
"It was in the past. It had to end. Things have to end so that new things can begin. That's what I told Amelia."

The Doctor sniffed and stood up, straightening his jacket.

"I should be off. Good to see you again, Wilfred."  
Wolf stood up, they hugged, and they both saluted. And then the Doctor walked into the house to say goodbye to Donna and Sylvia.

Wilf sat back down on the step and looked up at the stars, his breath clouding in front of him. He had been wishing to meet the Doctor again for so long now, but he wasn't at all what he had expected; so young and full of life for someone so old, and yet the eyes, they held something else. Something that had been gained in the transition from brown to green; a touch of hardness, some brutality that hadn't been there before in amongst the compassion, and nestling in the sorrow something that he had recognised from the last Time Lord he had met – just the tiniest hint of madness.

Wilf shook himself, and chuckled softly as he heard the Doctor's over-dramatic goodbyes from inside. He was being stupid to worry about the Doctor, surely; after 900 odd years he could look after himself. He supposed it was just the shock of seeing an old friend as a new person, an astoundingly different person. He probably just imagined all of the darkness hiding in the corners. The stars twinkled above him as the front door slammed shut, and Wilf wondered how many of said stars the Doctor had seen with those green eyes.

* * *

The Doctor reached the doors to the TARDIS, and leant against them, looking up to where he and Wilf had been looking only minutes ago, his breath causing clouds in front of him. He had been too honest with Wilf, shown him too much of himself and yet he couldn't help it. He owed it to his last regeneration to at least be honest.

He pushed the doors open and stepped inside, setting the controls to take him out of there. It always drained him emotionally to stick around for things like Christmas, and seeing Donna… as lovely as it was to see her happy… he couldn't bear to think of her not knowing who he was. Good old ego.

He laughed humourlessly, berating himself for the bottle and a half of wine he had just drunk. For fucks sake, it's surprising he made it to the TARDIS at all, let alone managed to start it up. He shouldn't drink. It's never good for him after a couple of hours, when it's well and truly in his system and he's alone. His laugh echoed around the empty TARDIS. He sat down on the floor in the corner and put his head in his hands and the laugh quickly turned to a sob. And that sob quickly turned to hysterics, wracking his body and he just _couldn't stop_.

And it was times like these when he was alone and full of a young mans rage and sense of injustice that he wished he could go outside and make someone else feel the pain he was feeling. He didn't want to empathise, he wanted to share. And he could, easily, the voice in his head told him that and he knew in his heart that he could, and with ease. But no, it sneered and it sounded a hell of a lot like the Master, he was the Doctor. He would _never _have the mettle.

As he lay there, foetal position, on the floor in the faint light of the console room he felt more than ever that the phrase 'halfway out of the darkness' meant more than Christmas to him. And right now, he was happy to let the darkness take him.


End file.
